Mark Him As His Equal: Year Two
by AsphodelFelicis
Summary: What would have happened if Voldemort had chosen to kill Neville Longbottom all those years ago? What if Harry's life had not changed with the Killing Curse, but Neville's? Read about Neville's trying experiences with fame and magic alike. Though he may not be the same smart and strong boy Harry always was, with a little help, he can still survive. (Everything will be accurate!)
1. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Visitor

I would highly recommend reading Book One before Book Two, or there may be certain references and changes that you won't understand!

* * *

Neville was bored. Home from his first year at Hogwarts, Neville had expected a fair amount of boredom. After all, there would be no classes, no homework, no spells, and worst of all, no friends. Though Harry and Ron had been quite kind of Neville over vacation, and invited him over nearly every day, they had now gone away on holiday, leaving Neville home with only his grandmother for company. He had not even received a letter from them, though each had promised to write daily.

Neville sat in his grandmother's ornate, slightly dead garden. The heat bore down on the back of his sweaty shirt and sunburned neck, but Neville did not notice. He was quite preoccupied trying to remember every moment of his first year at Hogwarts.

This was an activity Neville had found himself doing more and more often as the dull summer droned on and on, for he did not want to forget even a moment of his spectacular first year.

Neville was just remembering his encounter with Voldemort in the forest when he heard a shrill voice shouting his name. His trance broken, Neville stood up at once and proceeded into the house, correctly guessing who was calling him. Neville made a great attempt to smarten himself up before reaching his grandmother, though it was quite futile in the heat of the afternoon.

"Stop dawdling in the garden, boy." His grandmother snapped, looking harshly at Neville. "What are you doing out there anyway? No doubt causing trouble, or planning shenanigans for you and your friends."

Neville tried to ignore his grandmother as she rambled on about Harry and Ron, his best friends from Hogwarts, and how they were surely a bad influence on Neville. Though she had been somewhat mollified after meeting Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Weasley, and realizing they were quite nice people, Neville's grandmother had not forgiven him for a slight incident that had occurred at their house the first, and last, time he and his friends had gotten together there.

Neville tried very hard not to smile as he remembered that day, for his grandmother was still lecturing crossly. He recalled creeping into the dusty old library with his friends, attempting to find a book to help with their summer Transfiguration homework, and accidentally breaking a rather ornate glass vase, of which his grandmother had been quite fond. Though the three boys had tried to explain the situation, they were unsuccessful, and Harry and Ron were sent home at once. The two boys had later written to Neville apologizing, and saying they had still had an enjoyable time, but Neville still felt like an outsider for not being able to welcome his home to his very best friends.

At last, Neville's grandmother stopped talking and looked expectantly at her grandson. "Well?" she asked irritably.

Neville panicked. He could not admit that he had not been listening, for his grandmother would surely be angry. However, he could not say the wrong thing at this crucial moment, or he would surely be risking serious punishment. Neville did the only natural thing he could. He looked timidly up at his grandmother, widening his eyes in an attempt to appear angelic, and said, "S-sorry?" hoping his grandmother would repeat herself.

She sighed theatrically. "I said, can I trust you to stay here for one evening without causing trouble?" She looked crossly at her grandson.

Neville nodded quickly. His grandmother was going to Great Uncle Algie's for the evening, and Neville desperately did not want to go. Though he did not mind his uncle in very small doses, he despised seeing the wizened old man for the long periods of time that a dinner would require. "Y-yes Gran, you can trust me. I'll be good, promise."

Neville's grandmother looked appraisingly at him. He could feel her sharp cold eyes assessing him. "Very well." She said crisply at last. "I will be leaving very shortly." She turned at once and proceeded into the gloomy house, Neville following happily behind.

In ten minutes time, Neville stood in the lounge, saying a last goodbye to his grandmother. He had attempted to clean up while she bustled around the house, for he felt his grandmother might feel slightly better leaving the house to a clean Neville than a messy one. He was right, and she did not once threaten to force him to come along.

At last, after several last minutes warnings and threats, Neville's grandmother departed through the fireplace. Neville stood for a moment, staring at the vibrant green flames, until he was well and truly sure his grandmother had gone. At last, Neville had freedom.

After pausing in the kitchen for a biscuit or two, a delicacy his grandmother did not often allow, Neville proceeded up to his room. He climbed the stairs slowly, munching loudly and enjoyably, glad his grandmother had gone out. She did not leave Neville alone often, for she did not trust him at all, especially after the incident with Harry and Ron.

After this thought had crept into Neville's mind, he began pondering his friends' lack of letters once again. They had promised to write; surely they wouldn't both have forgotten altogether. Neville had a very strange suspicion his grandmother might, perhaps, be hiding the letters, for fear that they might contain ideas for more terrible plans. He decided to investigate.

Neville was quite preoccupied with how he would carry out such a search as he entered his room, and decided it might perhaps be a good idea to carry his wand, though he was not allowed to use it. Neville felt much safer just carrying the faithful instrument, however. He hurried out of the room, oblivious to the strange being sitting on his bed until it emitted a very loud sneeze.

Neville paused in the doorway of his bedroom, almost too scared to turn around and find out who was in his room. A list of possibilities ran through Neville's head, each option more unlikely that the previous. At last, gripping his wand extremely tightly in his sweaty hand, Neville turned around to quite an unusual sight.

A small creature was standing on the bed, looking extremely innocent. Neville lowered his wand slightly to get a better look. It looked to be about the size of a small child, thought quite a bit skinnier. It had large, bat-like ears and unnaturally large green eyes. Its limbs were extremely skinny and knobby, and it wore a strange bit of old, draped fabric, which was tattered and soiled. Neville felt extremely grateful that his grandmother had chosen this evening to go out, for she certainly would have punished Neville most severely for this mysterious being in his room.

At last, the creature staring expectantly at him, Neville spoke. "H-hello." He said cautiously, trying to be polite despite his fear.

The creature's eyes widened even more, and it smiled. "Neville Longbottom!" It exclaimed, tipping over slightly from the shock. "Dobby has been wanting to meet Neville Longbottom for a long time! Dobby has heard many great things!"

Neville was a bit confused, and still slightly afraid, especially after the creature's strange greeting. "Erm, wh-what are you?" He asked nervously, hoping the creature would not take offense to such a question.

"I is Dobby, Dobby the house elf!" He exclaimed, attempting to bow while balancing precariously on Neville's pillow.

Neville relaxed slightly, for he did not think elves were very harmful. "S-sorry, but what are you doing in my bedroom?" He asked, confused.

Dobby straightened up from his lopsided bow. "Dobby has come to warn Neville Longbottom he must not go back to Hogwarts School this year!" He said this in such a cheerful voice that Neville did not believe he was serious for a few moments.

"But I've got to go back!" Neville exclaimed after a bit of silence. "I'm all alone here! I want to see my friends, and learn more spells, and….. and….." Neville was not sure how else to express his dire need to return to Hogwarts.

"Neville Longbottom must not go! There is bad things coming to Hogwarts this year, and Neville Longbottom must stay safe!" The elf stared nervously at Neville, wide-eyed and innocent.

Neville began to feel a bit anxious, for he had experienced quite enough terrible things in his first year at school. "What sort of bad things?" He asked nervously. "How do you know? And who's going to be causing them?"

"Dobby cannot say, sir! Only that bad things will be coming, and Neville Longbottom must not go back to school!" The house elf looked fearfully around the room as though he were afraid of something.

"Why can't you say, Dobby?" Neville asked politely, hoping a change of tone might help persuade the reluctant elf.

"Dobby will be punished by his master if he says anything else!" he exclaimed sadly.

Neville was taken aback. "Punished? How?" He could understand the elf's hesitance now, for Neville, too, did not like being punished.

"Master makes Dobby do bad things! Master once made Dobby iron his hands. Dobby does not like being punished by his master." Dobby's eyes grew scared as he said this, and before Neville could stop him, rammed his head into the wall.

Neville gasped at such a terrible sight, and attempted to pull the elf away. "Stop, stop!" He shouted.

At last, Dobby stepped away from the wall, his eyes unfocused. "Dobby is forced to punish himself when he speaks ill of his masters." He said sadly.

"That's terrible!" Neville exclaimed, feeling suddenly grateful for his grandmother's less harsh punishments. "Dobby, isn't there anything you can tell me that wouldn't make you punish yourself? Can't you tell me who is behind all the bad things that are going to happen? Is it-" Neville paused, suddenly getting an idea. What if Voldemort was behind the coming disasters? Neville panicked. "D-Dobby, it isn't You-Know-Who, is it?" He was hoping desperately the elf would say no.

Thankfully, he did. "No sir, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Dobby appeared to be giving Neville a significant look as he said this, but Neville did not understand why, for he was busy feeling relieved.

"If it's not You-Know-Who, then I think I'll be alright. Dumbledore's at Hogwarts! And Harry and Ron helped me last year, I'm sure they would again, they're great friends!" Neville felt as though he surely must have convinced the elf Hogwarts was safe.

"Friends? Neville Longbottom's friends have not even written to him!" Dobby exclaimed in a shrill voice.

Neville was taken aback. He felt as though it were different when someone else criticized his friends' lack of communication. "Yes, but I suppose they must be busy, and they might not have owls, and-" Neville paused suspiciously. "Hang on, how d'you know they haven't written me?"

Dobby's eyes grew wide, a guilty expression on his face. "Dobby only thought… If Neville Longbottom did not hear from his nice friends… he might be easier convinced… to stay home this year…" The elf looked down shamefully.

Neville suddenly felt much better. Although Dobby had been quite rude by taking his only source of comfort away, it was much better than the alternative; that his friends had forgotten altogether. Despite his frustration, Neville smiled. "Can I have the letters?" He asked excitedly.

To his great surprise, the elf shook his head. "Neville Longbottom must say he will not go back to Hogwarts before he may have his letters." With this pronouncement Dobby jumped off the bed, landing lightly on the floor and looking imploringly at Neville, who gulped.

"I-I'm sorry, Dobby, but I've got to go back. I need to see Harry and Ron, I'll go mad if I have to live here all year!"

Dobby sighed and ran out the bedroom door, Neville chasing him desperately. The elf scampered down a long flight of stairs, Neville panting and wheezing behind. Dobby paused at the bottom. "Neville Longbottom must say he will stay home, or Dobby will have no choice."

Neville shook his head. "I'm going, Dobby!" He said fiercely, lunging desperately for the letters he was sure the elf was hiding. He missed, however, as Dobby turned suddenly and ran into the lounge. Neville regained his balance and followed behind. He stopped short in the doorway, sure his eyes must be deceiving him. Dobby was standing in the middle of the room, levitating several glass ornaments and china plates. Neville felt his stomach drop. "Dobby, please!" He shouted.

The elf shook his head. "Dobby must protect Neville Longbottom."

With that pronouncement, there was a loud cracking sound and Dobby disappeared. The plates and ornaments fell to the floor, smashing into pieces. Neville stared at them in despair, a sinking feeling in his stomach. His grandmother would never forgive him.


	2. Chapter 2: A Day of Freedom

Neville looked at the broken shards in despair, unsure what he could do in an attempt to remedy the situation. Before he could even make a decision, however, his grandmother arrived through the fireplace. The green tongues of flame lit up the now-dark room, scaring Neville. His grandmother stared angrily at the remains of her lovely ornaments. She appeared to be slightly tipsy, and Neville felt a sliver of hope enter his body. Perhaps his grandmother would not be coherent enough to punish him.

However, like most difficult situations Neville encountered, his hopes were not to be reality. Neville's grandmother appeared quite sober enough to understand the severe amount of damage, and who had obviously caused it. "You!" She shouted angrily, her wrinkled face scarlet with rage. Neville felt very scared. Although he knew his grandmother would never cause lasting harm to her grandson, she was quite strict, and would not hesitate to punish Neville.

Neville felt as though he ought to speak, to explain the situation. "Gran, it wasn't me, honest!" He said loudly, hoping with all his heart his grandmother would listen. Alas, she did not.

"If it wasn't your fault then whose was it? Did you have those rabble-rousing friends of yours over without my permission? How dare you!"

Neville felt his heart stop. He had not even considered that his grandmother might blame Harry and Ron, though it obviously was not them, for they were away. He did not know what to do. What if she forbid him from seeing them again? "Gran, it wasn't them, they're on holiday, so it couldn't have been!" Neville said nervously, hoping his grandmother would not mistake his tone for guilt.

"Plates don't just fall on their own accord, Neville Longbottom! You used magic, I see your wand right there in your hand!" His grandmother appeared to be hitting her stride, for she continued to shout shrilly without a moment's rest.

A sinking feeling in his stomach, Neville looked down. He had forgotten that he was still carrying his wand. It felt so long ago that Neville had chosen to bring it along on a quest for his letters, for security purposes. He realized how extremely guilty he must appear, holding his wand and all. "Gran, please, I didn't use my wand!"

"That's what all the underage wizards say! Give it here, now! You will not be leaving the house until the start of school! And no letters, either! I refuse to allow you the satisfaction of having contact with your troublemaking friends!" Neville reluctantly held out his wand, which his grandmother snatched at once. She then stormed ferociously out of the room, Neville trailing behind.

Though he was confined at home for the rest of the summer, Neville felt oddly relieved. He suspected Dobby had hoped for a much worse punishment, namely a refusal to allow Neville to return to Hogwarts. He felt quite thankful, for there were only two weeks more until the start of term, and a return to normal wizard society. Though it would be quite difficult, Neville knew he could wait.

Neville spent the next days trying very hard to be a meek and mindful grandson. His grandmother assigned him multiple tasks to finish each day, which Neville gladly carried out, grateful for something to take his mind off the long wait before September the first.

At last, one week before the start of term, Neville's Hogwarts letter arrived, informing him of the new books he would need to purchase. They all appeared to be by the same author, Gilderoy Lockhart, of whom his grandmother was quite fond. She was in a quandary. If she left Neville home, he could, perhaps, cause more trouble. However, if his grandmother brought Neville along, it would go against the punishment she had set. Neville waited impatiently for her answer, hoping beyond all hope that she would allow him just one day out, one chance to talk to his friends, to have a bit of enjoyment. It took his grandmother several days to reach a decision; Neville would be allowed to go.

Neville was thrilled. His grandmother always followed through with her punishment; this was a very rare treat indeed. He was determined not to cause even the slightest bit of trouble, to prove to his grandmother that the broken ornaments were not his fault, and that he should not be punished. Neville hoped desperately that behaving on such an eventful journey would redeem the trust his grandmother had lost in him.

They left by floo powder the very next morning. Neville quite enjoyed the spinning experience of soaring through fireplaces in this instance, for it signified the beginning of his day of freedom. He grinned as he stepped out of a dirty fireplace and into the dark, warm, humid Leaky Cauldron. His grandmother stood uncomfortably close by, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Come on now, this isn't a day to dawdle." She said curtly, weaving her way through the crowded pub to the back entrance. Neville followed behind, trying very hard not to trip over any legs or feet. They emerged into the bright sunshine that often accompanies late summer days. Neville looked up, basking in the warmth, as his grandmother tapped the magical brick which allowed them entrance into the wizarding wonder that was Diagon Alley.

Though Neville's grandmother had eyes only for what Neville needed to buy, her grandson felt many urges to dawdle. Though he had been in Diagon Alley once before, it had been an entire year ago, which felt to Neville like an eternity. He desperately wanted hours, days even, to explore the fascinating shops that lined the many cobblestone streets. However, he did not feel as though it were a very good day to beg for such an adventure, and resignedly followed his grandmother quickly from store to store.

Neville trailed behind his grandmother as she bought him new potions ingredients from the Apothecary and had him fitted for new robes. Neville thought he saw his friends everywhere; he constantly thought he had spotted a flash of Ron's bright red hair, or the glint of Harry's glasses. He felt as though he were being tortured. Neville's friends were so close, or so he believed, but not quite close enough to allow Neville to feel completely content once again. His only hope was that he might, perhaps, have a moment to speak to them in Flourish and Blotts, which was their last stop for the day.

Neville led the way into the packed bookstore, attempting to casually scan the crown for his friends while still staying with his grandmother. He could not find them anywhere, and gave up, following his grandmother into the mass of people waiting to see someone. Neville did not know who.

Neville stood in the herd of people, his foot being stood on by a young and breathless witch. He felt quite uncomfortable, and wondered why his grandmother was just standing excitedly by. The room was filled with the noise of shoppers, comparing their purchases and describing things they wanted to buy.

At last, a very flashy man entered the room from behind very large stacks of books. The room grew quiet at once. For a moment, Neville panicked, thinking the man was the dreaded Professor Exanimis who had taught at Hogwarts the previous year. He sighed in relief as the man turned around, revealing himself to be altogether quite different, though admittedly, he did have a similar fashion sense. He had very neatly combed blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a very wide, dazzling smile. His robes were a brilliant fuchsia. Neville could hear sighs of longing all around; they made him feel quite uncomfortable. He found himself being pulled forward along with the crowd; everyone trying desperately to meet the clearly-famous man. Neville tried desperately to escape the moving mass, but found himself just being pushed closer and closer to the front, until he at last stood directly opposite the still-smiling man.

"Could it be?" The man exclaimed loudly, staring at Neville with a mix of admiration and excitement. "Neville Longbottom?" He practically shouted his name, and Neville wished desperately that he were back in the crowd, hidden from view. The man pulled Neville out of the crowd, which became quiet once more, sensing the man wanted to speak.

"Neville Longbottom has come to meet me, Gilderoy Lockhart! The Boy Who Lived meets the bestselling author of _Magical Me_, among other fantastic titles!" He paused to look around at the crowd, who seemed impressed. Neville was relieved to finally know who the man was, for he had heard his grandmother mention Gilderoy Lockhart on occasion, and even remembered that his new required books were by him. Neville also felt quite uncomfortable, for he did not like being the center of attention for any reason. Gilderoy continued to speak. "Well, young Neville, let me make your day! This year, you and your classmates will not only be reading my fantastical books, but you will be taught by the one who made them all possible; me! Yes yes, I will be teaching at Hogwarts this year! But not to worry, I will still be around to save the day, should any difficult situations arise elsewhere!" Lockhart winked at the crowd and gave a deep bow. Neville heard sparse applause, which appeared to be coming mainly from the witches in the shop.

At last, after posing reluctantly for several photos with Gilderoy Lockhart, Neville slipped away, back to his grandmother. He found he standing by a wall, clutching a stack of books. She appeared to be a bit breathless.

"I hope you enjoyed that! Gilderoy Lockhart is a hero!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed. Neville had never seen his grandmother so taken with somebody, especially one so young.

"Erm, yeah." He said, trying to appear as though he had enjoyed the experience. "I think I'm ready to go, though." Neville gave another look around the shop as he and his grandmother made their way towards the door. He could have sworn he saw Ron's bright hair again, and perhaps Draco Malfoy's blonde head as well. They appeared to be having a bit of a tussle. Neville greatly wished to be with his friends, to know what was going on. He left reluctantly, casting one last longing gaze inside.

Neville followed his grandmother unenthusiastically down the now-quieter street. Dusk was approaching, and many shoppers had left for the day. Neville looked one last time around the breathtaking street as he and his grandmother returned to the Leaky Cauldron. It had not been the day of freedom he had hoped, and left Neville longing for Hogwarts, and his friends, more than ever before.


	3. Chapter 3: Problems on the Platform

After several more days of most severe boredom, it was at last time for Neville to return to Hogwarts. On the night preceding September the first, he could be found prowling his room for the many schoolbooks, quills, and parchment that had gone astray during his time at home. Neville spent many hours packing carefully, for he was still trying to earn his grandmother's trust, and felt not forgetting anything might impress her.

His grandmother strolled intermittently into the room, pursing her lips at the mess on the floor. "You should have started sooner!" She constantly declared, for Neville's packing was taking quite a bit longer than he had estimated, and it was beginning to get quite late.

"Sorry Gran," was Neville's constant refrain, for he was altogether too immersed in his task to think of anything else to say. He considered asking his grandmother to help, for he knew she could finish in a moment with her wand's aid. However, Neville knew there was no chance at all she would agree.

At last, a bit past midnight, Neville finished. He was quite surprised to find the sky outside to be black, for he had not realized it had gotten quite so late. Neville could hear his grandmother's loud snores from all the way down the hall, penetrating the silence of the night. He lay in bed, quite exhausted with the effort that comes from packing all one's belongings in a single evening. Sporadically, Neville would remember something he had forgotten, and forced himself out of the comfort of his bed in order to fetch it and place it in his trunk. When he finally fell asleep for good, Neville dreamed his trunk had come alive and eaten all his belongings, and his grandmother refused to believe it was not his fault.

All too soon, morning arrived. Neville's grandmother woke him early with her usual yell and unceremonious yank of the curtains. Neville felt quite exhausted until he remembered what day it was. At last, September the first had arrived, and Neville would be returning to Hogwarts. Despite his weariness, Neville grinned happily at the thought of finally seeing his friends once again.

Neville was quite anxious to leave that morning, and found himself herding his grandmother into the lounge, rather the normal pattern in which she shouted constantly until he appeared, always late. His grandmother seemed to welcome the change, and did not complain as Neville tossed Floo powder into the fireplace, spilling a bit on the decorative carpet that lay upon the hearth.

Neville waited impatiently as his grandmother approached the fire first, as she always did. He felt like he wanted to shout at her to go faster, so he could reach the Hogwarts Express, and his friends, more quickly. However, his grandmother was not to be rushed, and spent a moment in front of the flames, adjusting her cloak. At last, she stepped into the green tongues of fire and shouted "Transit Wizards Pub!" and disappeared.

Neville approached the fire, dragging his trunk behind. He did not know what the Transit Wizards Pub was, and was curious to find out. He stood among the vibrant green fire, looked around quickly to assure he had not forgotten anything, and shouted "Transit Wizards Pub!" with a thrill of excitement. Not a minute later, he arrived, hardly affected by the vortex of a journey he had just taken. He stepped out of the fireplace into a bright pub that looked quite a bit like the Leaky Cauldron, though sunnier. Neville wanted to take a minute to explore, but his grandmother seemed inclined not to dawdle in such an unwashed, undecorated place.

"What was that place?" Neville asked breathlessly as he and his grandmother hurried across the London traffic to Kings Cross Station.

"That was the Transit Wizards Pub, of course." His grandmother said curtly, stating the obvious. "It was established years ago to aid transportation for Hogwarts students to Platform 9 ¾. Since that time, it has also been used to allow parents a moment to unwind after the severe stress of sending children off to school, and as an open fireplace for any passing wizard who wishes to use it."

Neville nodded, fascinated by the idea of such a place. He thought it seemed like quite a brilliant notion, and hoped his grandmother would take him through again in the future.

At last, after several more minutes of skirting through the traffic-filled London streets, and getting slightly lost, they arrived at Kings Cross. Neville felt a thrill of excitement, he was so close! He led the way to the hidden entrance for Platform 9 ¾, recalling how nervous he had been the first time he went through the brick wall. This time, however, Neville felt a rush of excitement as he strolled towards it, glancing around casually.

After a mere moment of darkness, the platform materialized. Neville was so glad to be back, even with an impatient grandmother harrumphing behind him.

"Can I go now?" He asked her excitedly, hoping desperately she would not insist he must wait. Thankfully, she nodded.

"Very well. Don't get into any trouble this year, Neville Longbottom!" She said curtly. Though it was not a true goodbye, Neville felt touched all the same, for he knew his grandmother did care. He gave her a quick hug, stored his trunk momentarily by a large pillar, and plunged into the crowd to find his friends. It took several minutes, for the platform was growing more and more crowded by the minute. The train was set to leave quite soon when Neville at last found Harry and Ron, who were standing by one of the train entrances.

"There you are!" Harry exclaimed. "We've been trying to find you for ages!"

Ron grinned. "Don't listen to him, we only got here a few minutes ago. Come on, let's find a compartment."

Neville nodded happily and followed his friends onto the train. His friends had not changed a bit since last year, albeit growing slightly taller. The three boys maneuvered their way down the narrow corridor, Harry and Ron's trunks constantly getting in the way. Neville was quite excited to see the scared-looking first years, for he could remember feeling the very same way the previous year.

At last, they found an open compartment. The train was preparing to leave as they entered, Harry and Ron stowing their trunks.

"Neville, where'd your trunk go?" Ron asked, confused. Neville felt his stomach drop; he had left his trunk on the platform! He tore out of the compartment and down the corridor, shoving quite a few people in his reckless dash to retrieve his trunk. Neville pushed through the door and ran off the train onto the slightly less crowded platform. He ran for the pillar by which he had placed his trunk, but the baggage had disappeared. Neville scanned the vicinity, looking desperately, but could not see it anywhere. He did not know what to do. Should he continue to look, or get back on the train? Neville's hesitation made the choice for him. The train began to pull out of the station, and Neville knew he would not be able to catch it. He sat down, miserable, as parents began to leave. He had no means of contacting anyone, and did not know what to do. Neville buried his head in his hands, heartbroken. He would never get to Hogwarts now.

After a moment or two of misery, Neville noticed a pair of shoes. He followed them upwards to find James Potter staring down at him and smiling.

"Problem, Neville? I could have sworn you're supposed to be on the train right now." He said, winking. Neville sighed with relief, though his face grew red from embarrassment.

"I-I left my trunk on the platform, so I ran out to get it, but it wasn't there, and I couldn't find it, and then the train just… left." Neville explained forlornly, standing up. He noticed Farah standing nearby, looking a bit grumpy, and blushed slightly, for the young girl had certainly seen his tears.

"Hmm, that is a bit of a predicament. So your trunk's missing, you said?" James asked, not looking at all worried. Neville nodded, and the man turned to his daughter. "Alright Farah, what spell d'you think I should use?" He caught Neville looking confused. "Harry and Farrah's mum is working this year, so I'm taking time off to stay home and teach Farrah here." He explained. Neville nodded, wondering briefly what Lily Potter's new job was.

"You should use a Summoning charm!" Farah exclaimed, her eyes bright with the excitement of knowing the answer.

"Right you are, Farrah. _Accio _Neville's Trunk!" Neville heard a loud thump, then his trunk sped towards them, nearly decapitating several people.

"Wow, thank you!" Neville exclaimed, utterly grateful. "I dunno how it got over there, I swear I left it right here!"

"Maybe someone though it was theirs by accident!" Farah exclaimed, convinced immediately that it was true.

James nodded. "Could be. Alright Neville, why don't you come home with us. I'll owl the school at once. They'll probably just arrange for you to arrive by Floo powder, no problem at all. Let's go, now!" He turned and led the way to the exit of the platform, still dragging Neville's trunk. Neville, feeling extremely grateful for the help, followed quickly behind with Farah, who appeared mad once again.

"What's up?" Neville asked, trying very hard to be friendly, for he was not used to being alone with his friend's family, and found it quite strange.

Farah turned towards Neville, her face a bit red. "I still have to wait a whole YEAR before Hogwarts! Harry got to go last year, and now Ginny gets to go, and I'm stuck at home all by myself!" She hurried ahead to walk with James, leaving Neville wishing he had not asked. He felt quite bad for Farah, for he, too, had dreamed of attending Hogwarts for many years.

James led the way into the Transit Wizards Pub, where they would travel back home. He paused for a moment to speak with someone, and Neville finally had a moment to look around. He hoped desperately that his grandmother had not decided to stay for a drink, for she was certain to punish him if so.

Thankfully, it appeared as though his grandmother was not in the pub. Neville took the opportunity to gaze around the large room. There were quite a few tables, all surrounded by mismatched chairs of different colors and styles. The walls had many windows, though the glass was quite dusty and grimy, blocking some of the sunlight. Neville saw rather a few groups of witches and wizards, drinking all sorts of interesting beverages. There were many fireplaces around the room, and green flames constantly emerged from them, announcing the arrival and exit of different people. Above the noise of the conversations, Neville could hear people shouting residencies as they disappeared into the fire.

All too soon, James finished his conversation. He led Farah and Neville to an open fireplace, tossed in a handful of Floo powder from a large bucket, and stepped into the flames, still holding Neville's trunk, shouting "Potter Residence" as he did so.

Neville gestured Farah forward, feeling as though he ought not to leave her alone in the pub, for she was younger than he. She stepped into the flames, shouted "Potter Residence," as she did so, and disappeared.

Neville gazed around the room one last time, unsure when he would next see it. He realized James must be wondering where he was, and entered the flames, crying "Potter Residence," like his two companions.

Neville soared through fireplace after fireplace, catching very brief glimpses of the rooms beyond. At last, he began to slow down, arriving at the Potters just seconds later. Neville stepped out of the fireplace, dusting himself off.

"There you are! I was wondering where you'd gone off to!" James exclaimed, entering the room. "I've just sent a letter to Hogwarts, so we should hear back in a few hours. Why don't you come and have some lunch while we wait?" Neville consented, and followed James into the kitchen.

Neville enjoyed a very comfortable afternoon that day; much like the sort he had always imagined having with his own parents, had they still been alive. The return letter from Hogwarts arrived all too soon. Neville almost wished he could stay, and just live with the Potters for the year. However, he also desperately wanted time with Harry and Ron, and that could only happen if he returned to school.

Neville stood in the living room, holding his trunk. James Potter said a quick goodbye, and even gave Neville a very brief hug, which was very kind.

"Right, so just say you want to go to Hogwarts and you should be just fine." He instructed Neville, who was slightly worried something might go wrong.

"Alright." Neville said, nodding. "Thank you for helping me today." He said, looking gratefully at James. Neville did not know what he would have done if Harry's father had not found him.

On that appreciative note, Neville turned, picked up his trunk, and stepped into the fireplace, which already glowed green with Floo powder. "Hogwarts!" He shouted loudly, anticipation coursing through his veins. It had been a very strange and difficult day, and for a while, Neville did not believe he would ever get back to Hogwarts. Now, he was on his way at last.


	4. Chapter 4: Back to Hogwarts At Last

Neville closed his eyes as he spun around and around, through fire after fire. Dust whirled around him, tickling slightly and making him feel the urge to sneeze. At last, Neville came to a halt. He was quite surprised the journey had taken so long; he had been traveling for several minutes. Neville deduced it must be because Hogwarts was quite a bit farther away than most of the places he visited. He dusted himself off and stepped out of the fire, rescuing his trunk from the again-normal flames just in time. Neville looked around, trying to figure out where he was. The room was not very bright, although it still had a quite airy quality about it. There were large bookshelves of dark wood that stretched up to the ceiling, filled with books and other magical instruments. The desk was large and ornate, and quite neat. Neville could see a dainty cup filled with quills, and a neat stack of parchment in one corner, ready to be written on. Neville felt a very strong urge to take a closer look, but felt it prudent not to. He stood by the fire, warming his already-cold hands, for the room was quite drafty.

Just then, Neville heard sharp, quick footsteps coming down the hall. They were growing louder and louder, and Neville realized the person they belong to must be coming to fetch him. A concealed door flew open to reveal Professor McGonagall, who looked as stern as always.

"There you are, Mr. Longbottom." She said crisply. "I have been awaiting your arrival. You have already missed the Sorting, but you may join in for the feast, which will be beginning very shortly. Leave your trunk here, it will be brought up to your dormitory. Follow me, then." Professor McGonagall turned around sharply without waiting for Neville's consent. He hurried down the hall behind her, a bit out of breath, for she walked extremely briskly for such an elderly woman.

After several minutes, Neville finally caught sight of the magnificent brass doors leading into the Great Hall. He hustled forward, overtaking Professor McGonagall, and pushed them open. For a very brief moment, Neville fretted that he would cause quite a scene, and paused in the doorway, hesitant. Professor McGonagall, however, prodded him forward, into the hall. Neville sighed with relief; the meal had already started, and the loud chatter prevented many students from noticing Neville's late entrance. He hurried to the Gryffindor table, locating Harry and Ron. They had been quite thoughtful, and left an extra place, which Neville gratefully sat down in.

"You all right, Neville? What happened?" Ron asked worriedly.

"How'd you end up getting here? Are you in trouble?" Harry demanded, also nervous for Neville, who shook his head.

"I'm fine, don't worry. You lot saw what happened. I forgot my trunk, ran to get it, and it was gone. And then the train left before I could get back on." Neville explained, feeling as though the story were quite dull. His friends, however, did not seem to agree. They stared at Neville, openmouthed.

"Wow, how strange! How'd you get here, then? Did one of the teachers come fetch you?" Ron asked. Neville noticed Harry tense up slightly, but could not understand why.

"No, actually. Harry, your dad found me. He helped find my trunk, and then wrote to Hogwarts. They fixed everything so I could get here by Floo powder." Neville looked gratefully at his friend, who relaxed.

"Wow, I'm sure glad my dad was there, then!" Harry exclaimed, grinning slightly. Neville nodded, agreeing completely.

"So who d'you think we'll be getting as a Potions master this year?" Neville asked, changing the subject slightly abruptly, for he had been considering this all day. "I know we're getting Lockhart for Defense Against the Dark Arts, he announced it last week in Flourish and Blotts."

Ron nodded. "Harry and I were there, we heard that too. Saw you getting some nice pictures with him, too." He said jokingly. "Malfoy got right angry at us. I'll bet he wishes he were famous enough to have people recognize him like that. His father came over and everything, because Harry and I were about ready to curse him right there. They even made fun of Ginny's secondhand books. I hate the Malfoys." Ron scowled, as though even the thought of Malfoys was too much to handle.

"I thought I saw something going on!" Neville exclaimed, feeling quite content now that he knew what had occurred.

"Yeah, that was us." Ron smiled ruefully. "So anyways, Potions master. Whoever it is'll probably be Head of Slytherin too, which means they'll probably hate us. Don't you reckon?"

Neville nodded, then turned to Harry for his opinion. He was quite surprised, for Harry was staring moodily at his plate, rather than joining the conversation wholeheartedly as he usually did.

"What's up?" Neville asked worriedly, staring beseechingly at his sullen friend.

Harry looked up. "Oh, nothing. You were asking about the Potions master? Maybe they've asked one of the other teachers to be Head of Slytherin, and gotten someone less… evil. I dunno." Neville nodded, still a bit curious, for his friend's eyes did not sparkle as they usually did, and he did not seem quite as excitable. Neville turned back to his plate and continued to eat his way through several helpings of the delicious Hogwarts food.

At last, when everyone appeared to be quite full, the food vanished, and the plates became glimmering and polished once again. Neville looked towards the head table, where, sure enough, Dumbledore was standing to speak.

"Welcome, all of you, to another year at Hogwarts. I trust you all had an enjoyable summer to forget everything you learned last year!" He smiled sympathetically at the many students, who glanced guiltily at one another. "I trust you all wish to hear each other speak, rather than myself, so I will make this quite brief. I would like to welcome two new staff members this year!" Neville glanced excitedly at his friends, hoping desperately that their new Potions master would not be as strange and malicious as Professor Exanimis had been.

"Filling the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, we have none other than Professor Lockhart!" Dumbledore paused as Gilderoy Lockhart stood and gave a sweeping bow, his pale purple robes bright in the candlelit room. There was sparse applause around the room, which appeared to be mainly, Neville noted, from witches. He turned his attention back to Dumbledore, who continued. "Our second addition is-" he broke off as a door behind the head table opened, and a young woman stepped through it. Neville could not see her very clearly, for the room was quite shadowy, but felt she looked rather familiar. He looked at Dumbledore, who continued as though he had not been interrupted. "Professor Evans." He said happily, turning towards the young woman, who had taken a seat at the table. Neville heard Ron gasp, but could not understand why. The students clapped politely, unsure what to think of this mysterious woman. "Alright now, off to bed!" Dumbledore called, gesturing for the students to make their way out of the hall.

Neville turned back to his friends, who looked quite strange. Ron was staring at Harry, a look of shock and betrayal upon his freckled face. Harry stared at his plate, not speaking.

Neville did not understand what was going on. "W-what's wrong?" He asked nervously of his friends.

Ron turned towards Neville, his face growing red. "That's Harry's mum!" He turned back to his surly friend. "Harry, why didn't you tell us? We're supposed to be friends!" He stared expectantly. Neville, understanding at once, stared curiously at him as well.

After several moments, Harry sighed. "I didn't say anything because it's just so embarrassing, having your mum as a teacher! I kept hoping she'd change her mind, but she didn't. Dumbledore asked her a few weeks ago, and she was all excited about it. Can you believe it?" He looked up at his friends, a note of apology and frustration in his voice.

Neville tilted his head, still a bit confused. "Hang on, why isn't she Professor Potter, then?" He asked curiously.

"After Mum realized how much I hated the idea, she said she'd go by Professor Evans, so that maybe people wouldn't know."

"Harry's mum used to be an Evans before she married Harry's dad." Ron explained, filling in the gap. Neville nodded, fully understanding. He felt a bit jealous that Ron knew Harry's family so well, but knew such a thought was quite silly. He stood up from the table. The Great Hall was quite empty now; only a few groups of students remained.

"Well, at least we know we won't get treated unfairly in Potions this year." Neville exclaimed, grinning. He was not generally an optimist, but felt as though he really ought to say something in order to make Harry feel better. "Now come on, or we'll never get up to Gryffindor Tower in time."

Harry and Ron nodded, pushed back their bench, and stood up. Harry still looked a bit down, but he appeared much improved from his earlier moody state. The three boys began to make their way out of the hall, catching up on their summers along the way.

"So Neville, how come you never wrote back to Ron and me?" Harry asked, curious once again.

Neville felt a jolt in his stomach as he remembered Dobby, and his strange warning. "It wasn't my fault, I never got them! This house elf called Dobby took them, because he wanted to stop me from going back to Hogwarts. He said that bad things are going to be happening here this year."

Ron looked a bit nervous. Harry, however, looked positively excited. "Really? What sort of things?" He demanded, his face bright with curiosity in the torchlight.

"I dunno, he didn't say." Neville said nervously, not understanding how such news could excite Harry. "But I hope he's wrong, because last year was enough of an adventure for me!"

Ron nodded, but Harry was not to be deterred. "I hope he's not wrong! Hogwarts'll be boring without a mystery of some sort, you know it will!" Ron and Neville were silent, considering. Neville realized that their adventure last year had been somewhat exciting. After all, it was on their quest that the three boys had become quite so close. Neville realized that without that journey, he might not, perhaps, have best friends.

"I guess you're right." He said reluctantly. "So long as it's nothing too dangerous or anything. I don't want anyone to be killed or anything!" He exclaimed, trying to convince himself he was joking, and surely nothing could be that terrible.

"I guess we'll probably find out what's up soon enough." Ron said, speaking at last. "If it's not too dangerous, then I'll definitely help." He grinned at his two friends.

The three boys continued up to Gryffindor Tower, laughing and joking. Neville grew extremely content; he felt as though he were home at last. Though it was a new year, Neville felt as though nothing had changed from the previous. He was still excited to learn, but even more excited to be with his friends. Neville hoped the rest of the year would be as joyful and perfect as that very moment.


	5. Chapter 5: Classes and Chaos

Neville awoke quite early the next morning, feeling as awake as though he had slept for years. The sun had barely begun to rise, and only the slightest rays of weak light were visible, peering out over the thick dense trees of the Forbidden Forest. Neville lay comfortably on his back, staring out the window, as the sky filled with the warm, inviting colors of a new day. He felt it to be a most auspicious beginning for a first time back at Hogwarts.

At last, the sun now high over the trees, its brilliant glow illuminating the Hogwarts grounds, the other boys began to wake. They pushed themselves wearily upright, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and complaining about the bright sun Neville had just been enjoying so much. He joined them in preparing for them in preparing for the day ahead by dressing in his customary black robes and Gryffindor tie, trying very hard to ignore the many creases they had obtained while inside his trunk.

Neville was just leaning over to find his books among the multitude of items in his trunk when the other boys began to leave. Harry and Ron stood in the doorway, waiting.

"C'mon Neville, I'm starved!" Harry exclaimed, groaning and clutching his stomach in a most hungry sort of way. "You can come back for your books after! We don't know what subjects we'll have anyways, so what's the point? You'd have to bring everything!"

Neville considered this statement. He had not realized they had not yet received their schedules. Harry was right, as usually. Neville stood up, dusting off the bottom of his robes as best he could. "You're right." He said, smiling and rolling his eyes, privately cursing the slightly smug look Harry wore upon his face.

Harry let out a very brief whoop of elation, then hurried down the steep stone staircase to the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Neville shared a brief moment of mild frustration, then followed quickly behind. They were, after all, quite hungry.

The three boys tore through Gryffindor Tower, which, thankfully, was quite empty at the time. Several older students sitting wearily by the fire shook their heads in annoyance and confusion as the boys passed, not understanding how they could ever be so chipper so very early in the morning. In the past, Neville would have felt extremely self-conscious by participating in such antics, but today he felt carefree. He was back at Hogwarts, and although there were still rules, they were enforced much less strictly than at home, and there were much less of them.

Just minutes later, the boys arrived outside the Great Hall. Neville was breathing heavily, for he was not as fit as the other boys, having been cooped up inside for much of his holiday. He trailed behind Harry and Ron as they entered the gargantuan room, feeling a bit frustrated with his apparent lack of stamina. He sat down at the table beside his friends, vowing privately to get in better shape.

"I've missed the Hogwarts food!" Ron exclaimed as he munched a large piece of toast, his plate piled high with bacon and eggs.

Harry nodded. "You can always count on Hogwarts to have good food. Meals at home are fine, of course, but there aren't nearly as many options." He speared a kipper enthusiastically, quite ravenous.

Neville sat a bit quietly. After such a terrible display of fitness on the way to the Great Hall, he felt as though he ought to eat a bit less, perhaps. However, Neville reasoned, it was the very first day back at school. There would be plenty of meals in the future at which he could diet slightly. Neville filled a plate with bacon and toast and began to eat enthusiastically. As he did so, he looked up and down the Gryffindor table for familiar faces that he had not seen the previous night. He caught a glimpse of long red hair and nudged Ron.

"That's your sister, isn't it?" He asked, swallowing a bit of toast as he stared at the girl. She looked quite a bit like Ron, with the same famous bright red hair and freckles. She appeared to be a bit quiet, but overall content with her surroundings.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that's Ginny. Mum's made me promise to keep an eye on her, but she looks fine to me." He turned back to his food. Neville stared at the girl for another moment, feeling as though she did not seem quite happy. However, after a loud prompt from his stomach, he too turned back to the meal at hand.

Soon after, Professor McGonagall descended from the staff table to distribute the new schedules. Neville scanned his eagerly, his legs fidgeting slightly with excitement.

"Excellent, we've got Lockhart today!" Neville exclaimed, looking up at his friends and beaming. Though he had not thought much of the flamboyant man when they first met, his reputation did precede him. Neville was quite fascinated by Gilderoy Lockhart's many books filled with fantastical adventures, and almost longed to have such exciting experiences himself.

"Yeah, but then we've got Binns." Ron grumbled, his face falling. "So overall, not the best first day." He stabbed a last remaining bit of egg with considerable force, dispelling a bit of his anger.

Harry looked up. "We'd better get going, classes'll be starting in ten minutes, and we still need to get our books!" He stood up at once, the bench scraping loudly against the floor as he did so. Ron and Neville followed suit, feeling extremely excited.

It took the full ten minutes for the boys to collect their books and hurry to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They had not realized it would take much more time to descend flights of stairs while carrying a tall stack of books. Despite several dropped volumes, however, they still managed to arrive on time. Harry sat down in the second row, Ron and Neville right behind. Neville had wished to sit in the front of the classroom, so as to see better, but he did not want to sit with Hermione Granger, who had already claimed a seat there. Neville stacked his books neatly and waiting quietly for Gilderoy Lockhart to enter.

The class waited, an anticipatory silence among them, as the bell rang, signifying the start of classes. They then continued to wait, looking around at one another in a confused manner, for teachers were not generally late to class.

At last, a good ten minutes into the lesson, Gilderoy Lockhart entered the room. His robes were long and lavender, and they trailed on the floor as he walked through the rows of desks, clearly under the impression that he would be revered for arriving fashionably late.

"Welcome," he said in a loud, clear voice, "to the wonderful art of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Lockhart paused for dramatic effect as he turned around at the front of the room, beaming at the now-slightly skeptical second years that sat before him. "I, as you all well know, am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and, of course, five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_'s most charming smile award!" He paused again as though to give the class time to appreciate his smile. "I daresay, had You-Know-Who himself come to kill me, I would have escaped with not even a scar on my forehead." He smiled again at the students, all of whom were wearing confused expressions. Was he really implying he was more powerful than Voldemort himself?

Neville looked at Harry and Ron, who wore disgusted expressions upon their face. The three boys clearly felt the same way; this man was delusional.

"Alright now!" Lockhart exclaimed, looking perkily at the class. "I see you have all bought my complete set of books! I have prepared a very easy quiz for you all, just to see how well you read them. No need to worry, it's quite easy!" He waved his wand, and a stack of papers distributed themselves. Neville noted that they did not arrive as cleanly on the desk as in Professor McGonagall's class, and began to doubt the famous wizard slightly. He looked down at the sheet of paper and found himself growing angry. The first question read:

_What, in your opinion, is the greatest aspect of Gilderoy Lockhart? (Topics to consider: Smile, hair, eyes, complexion, physique, dress sense, wizarding abilities)_

Neville was immediately repulsed. He knew only the most narcissistic of people would ask such egotistical questions as Gilderoy Lockhart. He began to work reluctantly, despising every question.

At last, not a moment too soon, Gilderoy Lockhart shouted. "Alright now, time's up! I'll collect your papers now!" He waved his wand, and the papers flew off each desk, forming a pile, pell-mell, in his hands. Lockhart sat down at his desk and began to grade them quickly. Neville took the moment of peace to look at Harry and Ron, who appeared annoyed as well. Clearly, none of them were impressed.

Lockhart then stood up abruptly. "I'm sure you all have been most anxious," he said, smiling indulgently, "to hear your scores. Well, I regret to tell you many of them were quite disappointing. Only one of you remembered by very favorite color, Lilac! But Miss Ganger did, of course. Well done, a perfect score! Where is Miss Granger?" Hermione's hand shot straight in the air, quivering slightly. Neville rolled his eyes at Harry and Ron. "Very very admirable, Miss Granger!" Lockhart exclaimed one last time.

"Now." He said turning around abruptly. "I thought I would give you a bit of a taste of what it's like to deal with dark creatures. Of course, I will not give you anything so challenging as a banshee, but all the same…." He turned and whipped a cloth off of a curious shaking object to reveal a large brass birdcage filled with small electric blue creatures, which began shouting and squealing at once.

Neville heard someone laugh. "Cornish Pixies?" He heard Seamus exclaim, convulsing with mirth. "Cornish Pixies are dark creatures?"

Gilderoy Lockhart smiled in a frustratingly patronizing way. "I'll have you know that these are freshly caught Cornish Pixies! Now, let's see what you can do with them!"

With that pronouncement, Gilderoy Lockhart unlocked the cage, and the pixies flew out in a large blue cloud. "Go on, round them up now!" he called in a thoroughly too-happy voice. The pixies rampaged around the room, causing mayhem. Several seized copies of Lockhart books and began tearing them apart, or worse, bashing them against people's heads. Neville felt a few pixies buzzing around his head, but they were promptly smacked away by Ron, brandishing a book of his own. The pixies flew about the room, upending tables, smashing bottles of ink, and tossing quills and other personal belongings out the window. The entire class had sought safety under their desks, to no avail.

"Round them all up now, come on!" Lockhart shouted joyfully. "Bit scared now, are you? Never fear!" He whipped out his wand, waved it around foolishly, and shouted "_Peskipiksi pesternomi!_" Neville fought the urge to laugh as a pixie, clearly unaffected by the spell, nabbed the professor's wand straight out of his hand. Lockhart lunged after it, tripping over a desk and falling onto the ground. Neville watched curiously as the professor looked up at the cowering students, who were quite amused. He scowled and stood up just as the bell rang.

The class fled for the door at once. Harry, Ron, and Neville gathered their books and began to follow when Gilderoy Lockhart stepped in front of them, scurrying towards the exit. "You four can just nip the pixies back into their cage for a bit of extra practice!" He exclaimed nervously, hurrying out and shutting the door behind him.

Neville looked around at the havoc of the room. Harry and Ron did the same, looking annoyed. Hermione Granger, who had also been too slow in leaving the classroom, began immobilizing pixies at once. Harry started towards the door.

"What are you doing?" Neville asked curiously. He did not want to stay either, but did not feel comfortable disobeying a teacher.

"Oh come on, Lockhart's the one who set the pixies loose, it isn't our job to put them back. Let's go eat, I'm starved." Ron and Neville considered this idea for a moment, then shrugged and followed Harry out the door. As he left, Neville glanced back at Hermione, who remained in the room. She was looking at the three fleeing boys, her expression cross. Neville felt guilty, as though he ought to stay and help, or tell her to come along and leave, but he did not do either. After all, he reasoned, she was clearly capable of stopping the pixies, even if the famous Gilderoy Lockhart was not.


	6. Chapter 6: Lockhart's Jarring Theory

Neville did not eat much at lunch that day. He was still a bit bothered by the extreme letdown that was Gilderoy Lockhart. He also felt a bit guilty about abandoning Hermione. Neville wondered whether he ought to apologize when he next saw her. She had not yet come to eat, which worried Neville. What if all the pixies were too much for Hermione? What if she had been injured? Neville looked up at his friends, surprised to find them looking curiously back at him.

Harry sighed and put his fork down. "Neville, what is it now? You're not eating anything, what's up?" He looked a bit exasperated, as though Neville was altogether too melodramatic.

Neville was not sure what to say. If he told his friends about his worries concerning Hermione, he would certainly be teased and ridiculed. He felt it best to keep such fears to himself. "It's just….. I expected Lockhart to be a good wizard. But he's not at all."

Ron nodded, clearly feeling the same way. "Makes you wonder what's real and what isn't." He said grouchily. Neville agreed quickly, glad his friends were not going to delve more deeply into the cause of his brooding.

At last, to Neville's immense relief, Hermione Granger entered the hall. Her robes appeared slightly disheveled, and her hair much frizzier than usual. Her face was flushed, and Neville wondered whether it was from pleasure or anger. He noticed Hermione glance at him, and gave her a weak smile, which she did not return. Neville dropped his gaze and finally began to eat, feeling much better, although Hermione seemed a bit irritated.

The hall began to clear as students proceeded to their afternoon lessons. Neville continued to eat, desperately hoping that if he did not think about History of Magic, the lesson would disappear altogether. His effort was ruined as Harry glanced at his watch and cried out in alarm. "History of Magic is starting in two minutes!" He exclaimed, his voice nervous.

Harry and Ron stood up at once, ignoring the food left on their plates. Neville took one last bite of toast, then collected his books and followed. "If we run, we'll just make it." Ron said doubtfully, not believing his own pronouncement.

"Of course we will!" Harry exclaimed as they left the Great Hall, appearing altogether much too confident for such a situation. The three boys began to run, tearing down the nearly-empty corridor. Neville ignored his full stomach, which was clearly unhappy with the sudden exercise, for they would surely be caught and punished if late.

Suddenly, Neville heard someone shout his name from nearby. Harry muttered for him to just keep running, but Neville felt obliged to halt. He did not know who had called him, but if it was a teacher, running would surely result in punishment. Neville waved Harry and Ron forward, feeling as though they should not be late on his account. Harry nodded and continued to run at once, not looking back. Ron gave a sympathetic smile, then followed close behind.

Neville turned around, then cursed quietly under his breath. Professor Lockhart was walking down the hall, smiling and waving as though it were filled with admirers. Neville assumed he must have changed after the pixie incident, for his robes were once again neat, and now a long, flowing ice blue. Lockhart's hair once again looked perfectly combed and styled, with not a strand out of place. His dazzling smile appeared as bright and cheerful as Neville had ever seen. Neville briefly considered turning around and darting after his friends, but then remembered Lockhart was still a professor, and did, therefore, have the ability to punish students.

Lockhart strolled casually over to Neville, clearly oblivious to the fact that classes were about to start. He gave a dazzling smile, which Neville did not return. "I'm so glad I caught you, Neville!" He exclaimed. "I wanted to speak with you in class this morning, but I knew all your little friends would be jealous of the attention from such a famous wizard."

Neville did not know what to say to the pompous professor, so he kept silent. Lockhart did not seem to mind, and continued to talk in his loud, egocentric manner. "Anyhow, I heard about your little incident on the train… Oh Neville, I knew right away that it was just a ploy for attention. You thought having a little adventure by yourself instead of taking the train would bring lots of little admirers. Tut tut, so obvious. Your fame from beating You-Know-Who is wearing thin, and you wanted a new excuse for people to like you." Lockhart shook his head in a patronizing manner.

Neville frowned, for Lockhart obviously had the wrong idea. He felt as though it were necessary to explain himself. "P-professor, I don't care about fame, honest! My friends like me anyways!" Though Neville felt a pang of uncertainty with this pronouncement, he did not amend his statement. He obviously was less talented than Harry and Ron, so they must know his fame was all luck, and were not friends with him because of it.

"Oh Neville, you need to stop being quite so naïve about friends!" Lockhart exclaimed, chuckling. "As much as you might try to believe yours like you for what's in your heart, or some other absurd reason, it simply isn't true. Why, people want to make friends with those who are famous, like me! I get a hundred letters every day from people who are convinced they are my best friends. It's all fame and good looks. Well, must just be the fame in your case, but you understand."

Neville found he did not know what to say. He had a suspicious feeling Lockhart had just insulted him, but was not sure, for the man had been talking relentlessly for quite a while, and Neville had not been listening very closely. He gave Lockhart a blank stare, which was returned with a dazzling smile.

"Well now, Neville, I'm very glad we had this little heart-to-heart. Just remember, fame is not nearly as effective when forced. However, you must also keep in mind that large acts of bravery are much more impressive than small ones. Why, if I had just defeated You-Know-Who, rather than the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, I wouldn't be nearly so famous." Lockhart gave a loud chuckle, as though amused by the idea of simply beating Voldemort. "So remember Neville, be impressive, but do not be obvious. And someday, you may be half as famous as me!"

With that cheerful pronouncement, Lockhart turned on his heel and swaggered down the hall, his ice blue robes billowing behind in a most magical fashion. Neville watched him leave, speechless. He was still a bit preoccupied. It was quite true, he did not want fame. It had simply found him, by sheer luck and nothing more. However, perhaps Harry and Ron had been attracted by that. Perhaps they would not want to be friends with Neville if he were normal. He had always imagined they did, but Lockhart, dimwitted as he was, did know a bit about fame.

Neville proceeded slowly down the hall to History of Magic. Somehow, he managed to creep in the door without attracting the attention of droning Professor Binns. Hermione Granger did give him a rather snooty look as he entered, but Neville was quite used to that by now. He took an empty seat quickly, and used the rest of the lesson to ponder Gilderoy Lockhart's unsettling advice.

Neville was extremely quiet for the rest of the evening. After class finally ended, he refrained from sharing the details of Lockhart's lecture with his friends, though they pressed him several times. Neville felt as though they would try to dissuade him from the possibility that Lockhart could be right, in order to make him feel better, when his pronouncement really could be the truth. Neville continued to be silent throughout dinner. Harry did a spectacular impression of Binns' dull manner of lecturing, but Neville could not manage more than a weak smile. He simply could not manage to get the nagging suspicion of reality out of his head.

Thankfully, as the night wore on, Harry and Ron did not seem to notice his lack of participation in their conversations. Neville felt slightly hurt by this, for they were supposed to be his very best friends, but also relieved that they were not prying. He chose to go to bed early that night, rather than spend an awkward evening in the common room with his friends.

Neville proceeded up the steep narrow staircase to his dormitory, altogether too caught up in his thoughts to acknowledge the ache in his legs from the long climb, or the pounding in his head. He collapsed in bed, expecting to quickly drift off to sleep, but found he could not. Neville lay quietly in bed as the other four boys prepared to sleep. He thought he heard a bit of muttering between Harry and Ron, and suspected it might possibly be about him. Neville wondered what they were saying, but did not want to ask.

The dimly lit room grew darker as the night wore on, the candles melting lower and lower. The boys drifted off to sleep one by one, their breathing growing loud and steady, until only Neville remained awake. He could not stop thinking about Lockhart's pronouncement. Could it possibly be true that Harry and Ron had befriended Neville for his fame? Neville tried to recall the day he had first met Harry and Ron. They had been fascinated by his defeat of Voldemort, yes, but they had not dwelled on it much. But perhaps they had not wanted Neville to grow suspicious of their friendship. Neville recalled a conversation with Dumbledore from the previous year, when he had learned Harry and Ron's deepest desires. Harry had wanted to be praised and popular, and Ron had wanted to make his family proud. Surely having a well-known friend would make Harry's own accomplishments less fascinating among peers, and Ron's less significant to his family. Or perhaps they had known what Neville did not; that more adventures would come at Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron, as Neville's friends, would likely be a part of them. Neville's heart sank, realizing it could be true, yet not wanting to believe it.

Suddenly, he sat up in bed, realizing an important bit of information. If it were true, then Harry and Ron would surely stop being friends with Neville if he did not continue to do adventurous things, and save the world from Voldemort. Though, admittedly, they might not be the best friends at all if they only wanted Neville's fame, they were the only friends he had. Though they might want more than just a friend from Neville, they were still extremely sincere and kind to him, which was all he had dreamed of in a friend. Neville made himself a promise; he would have an adventure that year. He knew it would be the only way to insure his friendship, if Harry and Ron really did only care about the fame. Neville did not know what the adventure would be, or what danger would be involved, but he was determined to find something, anything at all, to impress his friends.

Neville fell back on his pillow, suddenly tired. As he began to drift off to sleep, he heard a strange whispering noise. The voice was rasping and soft, though echoing a bit at the same time. It sounded quite ethereal to Neville, though he was not, admittedly, paying much attention to it.

"_Come to me….. Let me rip you….. Let me tear you…... Let me kill you…...… Come…..…. Come…"_

Neville continued to drift off to sleep, sure the strange voice was a figment created by his overly exhausted mind, although he could not imagine why. Hogwarts was a safe place; there was obviously not a killer creeping around. Neville fell asleep quickly, forgetting the mysterious voice altogether.


	7. Chapter 7: Halloween Happenings

The next months of school passed relatively quickly for Neville. Though he had tried very hard to find an adventure in order to keep his friends interested in his fame, Neville had failed dismally. The quiet year at Hogwarts that he used to hope to have was now a curse. Eventually, Neville had given up, reasoning that since the trouble last year had simply fallen into their laps, surely the same would be true for this time.

Besides his quest for adventure, school was proceeding very normally. Though the teachers were giving intense amounts of homework, which Neville struggled to finish, he generally managed to keep up. Lockhart continued to be as daft and egocentric as usual, making Defense Against the Dark Arts a joke among the students. Potions class with Harry's mother was quite uneventful, for Neville had stopped ruining all his potions in the absence of a cruel teacher. He had even begun to enjoy the class slightly, though Harry's constant grouchiness after generally ruined such a feeling.

At last, just a few weeks before Halloween, something interesting happened. Harry, Ron, and Neville were eating their customary large breakfast in the Great Hall, filling their stomachs with enough food to hopefully keep them functioning until the noonday meal. Just as they were beginning to finish, Neville saw movement from the staff table out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Dumbledore, looking extremely chipper in dark purple robes, standing to address the full hall. He cleared his throat softly, and all talking ceased at once. As Dumbledore had never interrupted breakfast before, the students were all quite curious what he wanted to say.

The headmaster began to speak, scanning the hall of students as he did so. "As you all know, Halloween is fast approaching," he said happily. Neville turned to Harry and Ron, and the three boys grinned at one another, remembering their first Halloween at Hogwarts, which had been extremely eventful. He turned back around as Dumbledore continued to talk. "This year, at the recommendation of several staff members, we will be putting a little twist on our usual feast!" His eyes sparkled with excitement. Neville heard Harry groan, and assumed his mother must have been involved with the decision, though Neville did not dare break the taut silence of the room by asking. "As many of you, especially those who came from Muggle families, may know, Muggles celebrate the bewitching holiday of Halloween by dressing in costume. This year, Hogwarts will be joining in that tradition, and making our usual feast a costume party! I trust you all will enjoy this very much. Now, off to class!"

Neville stood up at once, followed by Harry and Ron. He could hear exclamations of excitement all along the table; it seemed as though the idea was quite popular among the Gryffindors. Neville could distinctly hear the Weasley twins planning a very elaborate costume. He glanced around the hall, curious what the other houses thought of Dumbledore's idea. The Hufflepuffs seemed extremely excited, and many Ravenclaws did as well. Only the Slytherins appeared angry. Neville realized it must be because they did not want to follow a Muggle tradition. He bit back a laugh at the sight of Draco Malfoy's disgusted pale face, then hurried after his friends.

Neville found them waiting at the doors of the Great Hall. Harry still appeared a bit put-out.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked, already suspecting at had to do with Harry's mother, as had most of his angst that year.

"My mother's been trying to force the Muggle tradition on us for years, and now she's got the whole school to do it! How embarrassing is that?" Harry sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Everyone seems to like the idea though, mate!" Ron exclaimed. "Besides, nobody knows it was her idea or anything." He glanced beseechingly at Neville to back up his proclamation.

Neville nodded promptly. "Well, except Draco Malfoy and the Slytherins, but I reckon that's actually a good thing." He grinned again at the memory of the extremely disgruntled Malfoy.

Harry forced a smile, and Neville and Ron sighed with relief. Neither one enjoyed being in the company of a grumpy Harry for very long, and were more than happy to see him replaced so quickly.

Over the next weeks, much of Hogwarts began to get into the spirit of Halloween. More students than normal could be found in the library, searching feverishly for creative costume ideas, and spells to help make them. Even several of the teachers appeared festive. In Charms class, Professor Flitwick had taught them an easy little charm to produce a roll of thunder. Though Neville's had been a bit more of a thump than the typical crash, he still enjoyed the lesson, and the fantastic clamor they had made in the process. In Potions, Professor Evans had them brew several easy potions that could be used to temporarily alter one's appearance slightly. Neville's potions had not come out quite perfect enough that he felt safe drinking them, but it was quite interesting all the same. Even Lockhart appeared to be in a spooky spirit, though he refused to deviate from the subject of himself. In the time before Halloween, the class was forced to act out the 'Top Five Scariest Wizard Moments,' which were all, not surprisingly, from Gilderoy Lockhart's many novels.

Harry, Ron, and Neville wasted much time trying to find the perfect costume ideas. None of them had any designs whatsoever, and the holiday was fast approaching. Tempers began to run high, and there was much putting down of ideas. Harry wanted them to use spells to alter their appearance, while Ron wanted to just dress up as something. Neville, truthfully, did not care in the slightest, so long as the three boys came up with something together.

All too quickly, Halloween day arrived. Thankfully, it fell on a Saturday, which allowed Harry, Ron, and Neville one last chance to create a costume. All throughout the day they could see students running around the castle, desperately trying to locate materials in order to complete their costumes. Eventually, the three boys ended up in the common room, sitting glumly by the feebly flickering fire.

"I guess we'll just have to go without costumes." Harry said glumly. Though he had despised the idea when first announced, he had grown more and more excited as time went on.

Neville stared out into the common room, where students were feverishly finishing their costumes. Just then, Ginny Weasley walked by, looking a bit glum. Neville was just pondering what could be the matter when Harry exclaimed, "Ginny!" extremely loudly, causing him and Ron to jump. The two boys looked at Harry, extremely confused, as Ginny walked over to where they sat.

"Yeah?" she asked suspiciously, clearly unsure why she was being summoned by her brother and his friends. Neville wondered what Harry was up to.

"Well, the three of us haven't got any costumes, and I just thought maybe we could just wear some of your stuff. Y'know, and go as girls." Harry seemed a bit excited as he explained the idea. Ron and Neville, however, looked utterly against it.

"I'm not going out in public wearing a dress!" Ron exclaimed vehemently, frowning.

Ginny laughed slightly at her brother's disgusted expression. "Just for the sake of seeing my brother wear a dress, all right. If you can get them to agree, and you promise to put Ron in a dress, I'll find something you can wear." Although Neville was still utterly against the idea, he was glad to see Ginny smile for once.

Harry turned to his friends. "Come on, you lot! If we don't do it, we'll have no costume whatsoever. We'll be the only ones!" He seemed extremely fixed upon the idea of dressing as girls.

Ron and Neville shared a glance, their faces sharing a look of defeat. "Alright." Ron sighed, not even daring to look at his sister, who was once again grinning.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed, perking up as Ginny hurried off, then reappeared a few minutes later with a bundle of colorful clothing in her arms.

"Here you go." She said, dumping the pile in Harry's lap. "I had to borrow from some roommates, because you lot are bigger than I am. It should fit alright." Ginny gave one last amused glance in their direction, then hurried off, presumably to put on her own costume.

Harry, Ron, and Neville quickly gathered the clothing, then trooped up the steps to their dormitory, where Dean and Seamus were already dressing in their costumes. Dean was going as a West Ham football player, and wore an old, tattered jersey. Seamus had meant to go as a mummy, although his wrappings were already beginning to fall off. They both stifled a laugh as Harry explained what the three boys had decided to go as, then left. Harry began to toss clothing to Ron and Neville, and they dressed quickly. Neville wore an uncomfortable grey skirt with a normal sweater, which he was quite grateful about. True to his word, Harry had given Ron a dress, which he looked surprisingly alright in, although his expression was one of great displeasure. Harry himself wore a black skirt and pink sweater, and looked altogether unfazed by the outfit. Neville began to understand just how desperately his friend sought to fit in, for the costumes really were quite uncreative.

Together, the three boys descended to the common room, which was beginning to empty as people proceeded to the Great Hall for the feast. Their costumes drew quite a few laughs, and Neville began to enjoy himself slightly. Even the sight of Ginny convulsing in a corner wearing McGonagall-esque robes could not ruin his sudden feeling of pleasure. Harry, Ron, and Neville left the common room, struggling slightly to exit the portrait hole normally in their new garments.

As they grew closer to the Great Hall, the corridors became more packed with students, most of which were dressed extremely interestingly. Neville could see a fantastic lion suit, complete with an extremely realistic head. He spotted three mysterious floating plants, which turned out to be Fred and George, along with their friend Lee Jordan, who had somehow made themselves nearly invisible, and were wearing the plants as strange, leafy hats. Neville even saw Hermione, who was sporting a very tattered wizards' hat and a clearly fake beard. He assumed she must be some famous, unknown wizard, and did not dwell on her predictability as the three boys jostled their way into the hall.

As they entered, Neville felt his breath leave his body. Though the decorations for the previous Halloween had been exciting, this year they were spectacular. Spider webs hung from the wall, the delicate silvery strands covering the normal brick with stunning, glimmering patterns. Pumpkins the size of a small first year stood in the corners of the room, carved into faces of pure menace. The ceiling was a thundering dark mass, with enchanted bats flapping around at the very top. The overall effect was quite frightening, but it was all in the spirit of the spooky holiday. Instinctively, Neville glanced up at the staff table, curious whether any of them had chosen to come in costume. To his great surprise, many had. Professor Flitwick wore a bronze battle helmet atop his head, the bright red plume quivering strangely in proportion to his small stature. Professor Sprout, looking utterly cheerful in her bright yellow flower costume, was talking to Professor Evans, whose costume appeared to be a large clear dome, which intermittently lit up. The most fascinating costume of all, however, was Dumbledore, who wore a large costume and headdress of bright red feathers. Neville thought he must be some sort of bird. There was a bit of fire flickering ominously around him, though not burning the professor, nor anything else.

Neville exchanged excited looks with Ron. Harry, however, was once again annoyed. Neville could not understand why; he had not even known what his mother's costume was.

"She's dressed as a lightbulb." Harry explained in a frustrated tone, correctly interpreting Neville's feeling of bewilderment. "It's something Muggles use to light up rooms. Mum's Muggleborn, so she knows all about them." He seemed to feel quite embarrassed by the costume, though nobody had yet found out Professor Evans was his mother.

Neville nodded, then quickly changed the subject. "Hey, look at Lockhart!" He exclaimed, glancing down the staff table once again. The three boys roared with laughter at a beaming Gilderoy Lockhart dressed in heavy robes of pumpkin orange.

"I reckon he came dressed as himself." Ron exclaimed, still convulsing slightly with mirth. "But in Halloween colors." The three boys laughed again at the terrible taste in color their teacher was displaying.

By this time, the flow of students into the hall had slowed to a trickle. Out of the corner of his eye, Neville saw Dumbledore wave his wand, and the just-empty tables filled with all sorts of delicacies. A cry of delight rose around the hall, then everyone tucked in for the meal.

Neville ate until he felt quite ready to burst. He spent quite a few minutes looking around the hall, his mouth agape at several of the costumes. Though the entire Slytherin table had abstained from the costume festivities, the rest of the school had seemed to take on the task of dressing-up with unusual fervor.

At last, the magical plates cleared, and Dumbledore stood to speak. The clamor of voices silenced at once. "A very happy Halloween to you all!" began Dumbledore, his eyes shining. "All the costumes among us today are quite magnificent. You have done a very admirable job! Now, we have a bit of entertainment for you. Please welcome the troupe of magical acrobatic art spiders!" Dumbledore gestured upwards, and as if one, heads turned towards the ceiling. There were various cries of shock and fear as people began to make out the shape of spiders, millions of them, flying across the ceiling by way of microscopically thin thread. Neville watched in fascination as they began to weave a picture out of the silk; the image coming together quite quickly through all their work. He glanced over at his friends, expecting to see them just as entranced, and was surprised. Ron sat hunched, his face staring down at the spotless tabletop, hands clenched. Harry appeared to be alternating between comforting Ron and watching the spiders' show.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked, his voice barely audible among the students' astonished exclamations.

Harry looked over. "Ron hates spiders." He said very simply, for no other explanation was needed. Neville glanced around. He could see several other students, obviously afraid of spiders as well, making their way to the large doors of the hall.

"Well, let's go, then." Neville exclaimed, standing up quickly. Though he was quite fascinated by the spiders, and longed to stay for their full performance, he felt as though helping a friend was more important. Ron stood up quickly, his eyes cast downward as he hurried towards the entrance. Harry followed reluctantly, casting one last long look at the spiders' nearly finished picture as they exited.

Once in the hallway, Ron calmed down considerably. His shoulders grew less tense, and the muscles in his face relaxed visibly. "Thanks," he said softly, obviously a bit embarrassed.

Neville was about to respond when he heard a mysterious voice; one he had heard once before. It echoed strangely around the hall, high and cold, with a strange accent.

"_Let me rip you….… Let me tear you…. I smell blood… Let me kill you…_"

Neville felt as though his blood had turned to ice. "D-did you hear that voice?" He asked nervously of his friends.

They looked at him, concerned. "What voice? There's nobody here." Harry said, looking around to be perfectly sure.

Neville began to hurry down the hall, the voice still in his ears, growing louder by the moment. "_I smell blood… Let me kill you….. I smell blood….."_

He hurried up a flight of stairs to the second floor, his ears straining to follow the faint strands of voice, growing ever quieter, yet still repeating, _"I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!" _He did not stop to consider the danger, nor to realize the fact that here was the adventure Neville had been searching for. His only thought was to find the voice.

Neville gasped breathlessly, still running. "Hurry! It's going to kill someone!" He tore down the corridor, towards the last, faint echoes of the voice. It had gone. Neville looked around for a moment, bewildered, before his eyes finally landed upon a chilling sight. Harry and Ron gasped in unison. Words were painted upon the wall in blood red, glowing in the dim torchlight of the room.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

A dark shape hung next to it, dangling from a torch bracket. Neville stepped closer, despite the obvious danger. Harry and Ron moved in to investigate as well, none of the boys wanting to admit their fear. All at once, they realized the shape was furry and cat-shaped. Harry gasped.

"It's Mrs. Norris! Filch's cat! Come on, we have to get out of here now." Harry turned sharply, and began to hurry down the hall. He paused after a moment, realizing his friends were not following. "There's nothing we can do for her! We don't want to be caught here, trust me. Now come on!"

Ron and Neville's eyes met, and they realized Harry was right. They were about to hurry after him down the hall when footsteps broke the tense silence. The echoing sounds of pounding feet on stone made Neville feel as though there was no place to go; it seemed to be coming from all directions. The three boys backed up together. They were directly in front of the mysterious message when the first students rounded the corner, laughing and talking boisterously.

All at once, the hall became silent as students began to read the message. It then filled with the whispers of informants, explaining to those unable to see what was going on.

Draco Malfoy, who was quite near the front of the crowd laughed in the silence. "Enemies of the heir? Hah! That means you'll be next, Mudbl-" Draco broke off, not finishing his exclamation, for Professor Dumbledore had just stepped upon the scene.

He stood silent for several moments, clearly trying to grasp what had occurred, though his eyes did not show a trace of fear. Neville watched him nervously, wondering if he knew what had happened.

Just then, Filch burst through the crowd. He had clearly not been having a very good night, which grew much worse as he stepped up to the message, confused, and spotted his beloved Mrs. Norris hanging beside it.

Filch turned upon the three boys, his face contorted with rage. "You killed my cat! I know you did, you filthy little troublemakers!" He reached out a gnarled hand as though to grab them. Neville stepped backwards, afraid of the evil old man. The crowd of students gasped.

Thankfully, Dumbledore intervened. He had spent several moments examining Mrs. Norris from where she hung limply. "Mr. Filch, please! Your cat is not dead. She has just been petrified. We will be able to cure her, though perhaps not right away." In the light of the fire, Dumbledore's face seemed old and tired, even among the warm feathers of his costume. Neville could see the shadows of many wrinkles upon his wizened face.

"That's just what I thought!" Gilderoy Lockhart exclaimed loudly, stepping forward and grinning at the crowd of students, clearly expecting them to applaud, or something of the sort. No such reaction occurred, and Lockhart stepped hastily back into the shadows.

Dumbledore sighed. "Everyone off to bed, now! There has been quite enough excitement for one evening." He waved his arms as though shooing away the students. Groups began to turn away and trudge back to their respective common rooms. Several shot curious glances at Harry, Ron, and Neville as they did so.

Neville felt extremely uncomfortable. Some of the students clearly suspected he and his friends were to blame. He began to trudge back to Gryffindor Tower, only dimly realizing the fact that he was still wearing a skirt.


End file.
